


Too Greater Cost

by GingaNinjaHP



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Battle of Five Armies - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dwarves Only Love Once, Fever, Fever Dreams, Happy Ending, Hurt Bilbo, Love, M/M, Serious Injuries, an idea that had been floating around my brain, serious angst, though it's a close thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-01 11:20:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10920768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingaNinjaHP/pseuds/GingaNinjaHP
Summary: He catches sight of the White Orc upon the top battlements and pauses. A flash of black and suddenly, Bilbo knows. Thorin plans to slay Azog alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea that's been floating around my head for a while, I hope it grows in the way I hope it will. Let me know what you think in the comments.

The battle is fierce. The air stinking of sweat and blood. The clash of swords, the whoosh of metal singing through the air and the battle cries of warriors and screams of the dying.

Bilbo runs through the melee, Sting gripped tightly in his hand, slashing at as many orcs as he can reach, despite Gandalf's attempts to hold him back. He catches sight of Fili and Kili, back to back as they defend each other.

Thorin's words still ring harshly in his ears. _'You have no claim over me'._ _No claim?_ He thinks wildly, dodging an orc's blow and running it through with Sting, _I have every claim over you, Thorin Oakenshield. You have been mine since we first laid together in Beorn's Halls as I have been yours._ He grants another savage slash to an orc's legs, _Where are you?_

He catches sight of the White Orc upon the top battlements and pauses. A flash of black and suddenly, Bilbo knows. Thorin plans to slay Azog alone. _You stubborn dwarf!_ As swift as he is able Bilbo scrambles to climb the battlements, filled with a desperation he wasn't aware he was capable of.

Behind him lays the battlefield, but ahead is the battle he must aid in. His minds screeches at him of the danger, but he finds himself unable to care. To lose Thorin would be to lose everything. Should he fall, Bilbo would never recover 

As he finally manages to clear the top, he hears Thorin cry out, and watches as Azog bursts from beneath the ice, mangled arm swinging and throwing Thorin's deflective sword to the side, threatening to disarm the dwarf completely, but Thorin holds fast to Orcrist.

Bilbo's body moves without leave of his mind. He slips on the ring and world turns fuzzy at its edges, leeched of colour. He runs, heart in his throat as Azog draws back his weaponised arm and presses into Thorin's defence.

Invisible, Bilbo uses Sting to slice into the back of Azog's knee, bringing the orc to his knees with a screech. The White Orc swing around blindly and Bilbo feels a searing burning agony leap from his side as Azog's blade finds purchase. He sees the shock on Thorin's face as his foe madly brandishes his arm about him, screeching in orcish.

"Kill him, Thorin!" He screams, falling heavily onto the ice. "Finish this."

Thorin's shock redoubles but he does as he is bid, thrusting Orcrist into the Defiler's chest, twisting the blade with malicious intent as Azog falls back, eyes rolling and last breath escaping.

In his fury, Thorin is beautiful. He sits atop the orc for a few moments, chest heaving before he casts his eyes about.

"Bilbo?" He croaks.

The hobbit silently slips off the ring. Colour comes back to the world and Bilbo smiles at the beauty of it, the sun barely cresting the ridge of the battlements.

"Bilbo!" There's urgency in Thorin's voice as he slides across the ice to the hobbit's side. "Bilbo. No, no, no, no."

His torso is lifted gently but pain lances down his side and he grasps at it, choking off a cry. Thorin gently pushes the hair from Bilbo's face.

"Thorin." He smiles, in spite of his pain, reaching out a bloodied hand to brush the dwarf's face. "You did it. You got your vengeance."

"Shh, now, shh." His voice is shaking as he softly, so softly, presses a kiss into Bilbo's hair. "Kili!" He cries, "Fili!"

The world looks strange to Bilbo. Like when he puts on the ring, but not.

"Thorin..." He murmurs, groaning at the wave of pain, "Thorin, I'm-I'm sorry about the Arkenstone, I was trying to--"

"I know." His voice sounds strange to Bilbo. Thick. Another gentle kiss to his forehead. "I know, shh. Help is coming."

They lapse into a heavy silence. Bilbo is finding it harder to breathe and his mouth tastes coppery.

"Thorin? Do you remember..." He swallows, grimacing at the taste of it. "Do you remember the room we had in Laketown? It was cold, but we warmed it, warmed each other. I knew I loved you then."

"Don't you _dare_." Thorin hisses. "Don't you dare say good-bye to me."

"Is that what I'm doing?" Bilbo questions. His eyelids are feeling heavy. "I don't-I don't think so. I just want to remember, that's all. Always."

" _Please_ , Bilbo." Thorin whispers harshly.

"Uncle!" Two voices, Kili and Fili, Bilbo realises with a start. "Bilbo!" More panic this time.

He watches Thorin reach out one arm to the twins. "I need you to get help. Now."

Fili rushes back to the edge of the battlements, shouting for Oin. Kili comes to sit beside Bilbo and Thorin. With a shaking hand, he reaches out to Bilbo's wound.

"Uncle, we need to stop the bleeding. We need to move him to steadier ground." Thorin nods and Bilbo swears he can see pain in his eyes.

"It's alright." Bilbo murmurs, making an attempt to sooth Thorin, but finding that he lacks the strength to move his arms properly.

"I'll take his legs, you support his shoulders." Kili says, "Bilbo, I need you to keep pressing on the wound." The hobbit nods. "On three. One, two, three."

Bilbo cries out harshly, pain rippling through him and dimming his vision dangerously. He hears Thorin release a sob, but then he's being placed gently onto a more stable surface.

"Bilbo?" He opens his eyes to see the faces of Thorin and Kili hovering over him. "Bilbo, this is going to hurt, but I need to try and stop the bleeding." Bilbo nods, gasping as Kili moves the hobbit's hands aside and presses a scrap of cloth hard on the wound. His legs flail slightly and he grits his teeth, breathing harshly.

"Shh." Soft hands about his face and lips on his brow. "It's alright. Shh."

The light is fading. The world greying. _This is it,_ he thinks, _this is how I die_.

"Is-is that my handkerchief?" He asks instead, eyes closing, smiling at the way the both of them laugh thickly. _Don't be sad_ , he thinks.

"I think it might be, Bilbo." Thorin rumbles, and Bilbo knows he's lying. He opens his eyes. Thorin is over him, upside down. His face is wet and contorted in agony. Bilbo brings his hand up to the one still resting on his face. "I should have let you stay in the Shire."

Bilbo shakes his head, "No, you shouldn't have. I was me-meant to come on this journey. I was meant to save your lives."

"In place of your own?" Thorin hisses, angry now, but it's swift to pass.

"Well, it wasn't exactly my plan to--"

"Don't. Please don't."

Bilbo smiles, wincing as he begins to feel so, so cold and knowing his teeth must be stained red for all the copper in his mouth. It's getting harder to keep his eyes open.

"I'm so glad that I followed you mad dwarves that day." He lets the good parts of the journey wash over him. Kili and Fili roughhousing. Bofur's easy smiles. Dwalin's booming laugh. Balin's stories. Bifur's beautiful music. Bombur's cooking. Oin's supreme knowledge of medicinal plants. Gloin and his fire-starting ability. Dori's finicky ways. Nori's ridiculous hair and it's upkeep. Ori's sweet nature and his love of books. And Thorin. King and lover. "I wouldn't change it. For any-anything." He huffs, smile shaking.

" _Please_ , Bilbo." Thorin whispers, tears streaking his dirty face. "Please hold on a little longer. Help's coming."

"I love you, Thorin." He says. "I'm sorry t-to have to leave you all."

The world dims and he feels his hand slipping from Thorin's on his face. He hears Thorin as if from a distance.

"No! _No_! Bilbo? _Bilbo_!" A harsh intake of breath and two large hands grasping his face. " _Please_. Don't leave me, Bilbo. _Please_."

Then nothing. No pain. No cold. Just... nothing. A floating nothingness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter I'm afraid, but this is probably going to be the pattern. Don't forget to leave a comment :)

Kili stares at Bilbo's slack face. _This can't be happening_ , he thinks a little desperately. Quickly he holds a hand close to Bilbo's nose and mouth, keeping a hard pressure on the wound with the other. He registers grief and surprise and hope on his uncle's face as he hisses, "He's still breathing."

"Uncle!" Fili comes rushing forward, Oin at his side and stopping just short as he notices Bilbo's limp visage. "Is-is he...?" He asks, voice trembling.

"No." Kili replies, "Not yet. Oin." The older dwarf comes swiftly forward, crouching beside Bilbo's still form and squeezing Thorin's shoulder, "Help him."

" _Save him_." Thorin whispers harshly, gentle hands still resting on Bilbo's face.

"Move your hand, Kili." Oin murmurs, gauze held tightly in his hand. Kili does and sobs as blood wells quickly, seeming to pour from Bilbo's small body. " _Mahal_! It's deep." He quickly yanks the hobbit's clothes aside and shoves the gauze into place. "Fili, get my needle and thread. And the alcohol to cleanse the wound." Fili is swift to pull the items out of Oin's bag and Oin sets to work immediately.

Hot blood courses over his fingers as he works quickly to find the source of the bleeding. He gives a grunt of success and finally, _finally_ the blood slows. Oin works faster, pouring a hefty amount of alcohol into the wound, dabbing it with more gauze and closing the wound as best he can.

"Fili, the salve and bandages." He holds out his hand, eyes tracing the horrific wound for any more blood. Satisfied that he has prevented more blood loss, he quickly slathers a green healing salve across his immaculate stitches and binds a large amount of bandage around the hobbit's waist.

He watches Bilbo's chest gently rise and fall. Too shallow.

"Thorin." He says quietly, "There's still a chance he'll--"

"No." Thorin replies, anger and grief colouring his words. "He can't. I still have much to tell him." In front of them all, he presses another kiss to Bilbo's brow. It's not a surprise in as much as the whole company had been aware of the shift in the relationship between their king and their burglar, but to see the evidence of it is a shock.

"Thorin--"

" _No_." Thorins frowns at him, tear tracks stark against his cheeks and eyes red-rimmed. "He needs to get to a tent. He needs to be watched and he _has to wake up_."

Silence descends over the small group as Thorin returns his gaze to their burglar's face, hands gentle as he continues to hold Bilbo.

"He _can't_ die." He whispers.


	3. Chapter 3

After the nothingness, there's light, sound. He's in Laketown. Looking down he sees that he's wearing the blue jacket and trousers. The dwarves are singing, spirits surprisingly high after their barrel-ride, now that the ale is flowing and their stomachs full. There's a warm presence at his side. He turns.

"Where did you go?" Thorin asks, eyes crinkling with a smile.

"I-I don't know." Bilbo says, confused. _Am I in the afterlife?_

A hand slips onto his hip and fiddles with the heavy leather belt there. "The room's here are much too cold for a hobbit." Thorin murmurs, eyes turning dark.

_If this is the afterlife, it's fantastic_.

"Are they, indeed?" Bilbo grins, stepping closer into Thorin's warm body.

"Oh, yes." The dwarf assures, "I think it may be best for us to share a bed this evening. I can't have our burglar freezing to death. It would be most unacceptable."

Bilbo smiles up at him, "Then perhaps you should take me to bed, King Under the Mountain."

Thorin growls and lifts the hobbit over his shoulder, making Bilbo laugh as he ushers them to the dwarf's room.

It's spacious, and Bilbo is mildly surprised to find that it is, indeed, cold. Thorin places him carefully on the bed - and it's glorious to be finally on a bed - and begins to undress him. He presses kisses to each piece of Bilbo's flesh he reveals.

"You extinguished the fire." Bilbo accuses.

"Mmm." Thorin rumbles, hands at the lacing of the hobbit's trousers. "I wanted to be sure that we would have to warm one another."

Bilbo runs his hands through Thorin's thick raven-black hair, tugging on his braids to bring him up for a kiss, before he begins to work on Thorin's clothes. His fingers are clumsy with want, but he grins with accomplishment as this armour slips away and Thorin leans back to pull his tunic over his head.

The hobbit licks his lips as he surveys his king's broad chest.

"Something you like?" Thorin asks, chuckling.

Bilbo surges up to worship Thorin's pectorals and harshly muscled stomach, his thumbs resting on the dwarf's hipbones as he groans above the hobbit.

"In me." Bilbo whispers, "I need you in me."

"Yes." Thorin growls swiftly divesting them both of their trousers and undergarments. He reaches into the pocket of his breeches, fishing out a small vial of fragrant oil, before throwing them onto the floor.

Bilbo attempts to flip himself on to his stomach, but is stopped by a gentle hand on his sternum.

"I wish to see your face." Thorin murmurs and the hobbit flushes to the tips of his ears.

They have never coupled this way. Not once since Beorn's. Each encounter has always been conducted with Bilbo upon his hands and knees. That Thorin wants to watch his face is... immensely flattering.

Bilbo nods, spreading his thighs, awareness sparking bright as Thorin softly runs his hands up the hobbit's legs.

"Beautiful." The dwarf whispers, bathed in candlelight.

Preparation is usually quick and perfunctory, but tonight... ah, tonight, it's blissfully drawn out. Bilbo whimpers and squirms and wriggles as Thorin teases him with his fingers.

" _Please_ , Thorin." He whispers, tugging at the dwarf's braids again. " _Please_."

"I'm trying to enjoy you." He murmurs back, but he huffs a laugh and slicks himself.

He reaches down and slides gently, inexorably into Bilbo, both of them groaning loudly at the feel of it. As he bottoms out, Thorin braces himself on his elbows either side of Bilbo's head, his hair creating a thick curtain about their faces.

"Are you ready?" Thorin questions, voice shaking.

"I've been ready for an Age. Move." He demands, squeezing his thighs and hooking his feet around Thorin's broad back, his fingers scrabbling down the king's chest.

Thorin gives a throaty chuckle, but does as he is bid. Bilbo groans and slides a hand into the dwarf-king's mane of hair, gripping gently as Thorin mouths at his throat.

"I wish that I'd met you years ago." He whispers into a pointed ear, thrusts steady and deep.

"Much earlier and I'd-I'd have been but a boy." Bilbo returns, smiling around a moan.

Thorin flips them suddenly and Bilbo finds himself astride the dwarf's powerful hips. He leans down for a kiss, Thorin's fingers on his hips gripping hard enough to bruise, before shifting up and down into a deeper rhythm.

" _Mahal_." Thorin growls, thrusting harshly and leaning up to tease at the hobbit's nipples with his teeth. Bilbo groans loud and long and Thorin smiles against his chest. "Hush, we wouldn't want to alert the others."

"S'not as if they don't already know, with the amount of marks you leave upon my skin." The hobbit stops in his bouncing to grind down onto the thickness filling him, relishing the harsh moan it rips from Thorin and the involuntary thrust he gives in return. Large hands grip Bilbo's arse-cheeks and squeeze.

They dissolve into the will of their bodies to reach completion, but still, it is slow and dare Bilbo think... _loving_. Teeth are gentle against skin. Hands, though demanding, are tender. Lips are worshipful. And eyes rake over each other as though willing permanent memory of this moment.

When climax finally approaches them it is both gentle and devastating, leaving them breathless in its wake and robbing them of speech, their panting mouths open against one another's.

_If this is the afterlife, it's not so bad..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's getting there guys, bear with me :) Don't forget to leave a comment to let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

The battle over, the field stinking of blood and piss, thirteen dwarves gather in a tent. In its centre there is a pallet bed with a small, pale figure upon it and their king on a chair beside.

"How is he?" Bofur whispers to Oin.

Oin shrugs, "Which one? Thorin is waiting for our burglar to awaken and Bilbo..." He sighs. "Bilbo may or may not make it. It's hard to tell. He lost a lot of blood."

Bofur removes his hat and grips it tightly in front of himself carefully regarding his king. Thorin's face is dark, shadowed with grief. "Has Thorin allowed you to see to his wounds?"

"Yes. He's been lucky, though... considering the circumstances, I don't believe he feels the same."

Bofur nods and glances at Bifur. The brain-damaged dwarf is quietly sniffling and Bofur places a hand to his shoulder. He knows how much Bilbo means to every dwarf here, but he knows his cousin's soft spot for the halfling stems from Bilbo's gentle nature and understanding. He had tried hard to learn how to communicate with Bifur and, in turn, the dwarf had gentled towards him.

They stand in silent vigil, watching as Bilbo breathes, as Thorin reaches out to gently grip the hobbit's hand and as Oin busies himself with salves and bandages and water.

They have taken back Erebor, but at what cost? They haven't lost their king, thanks to the hobbit, but if Bilbo dies, they all know that Thorin will be lost. A dwarf loves once. There will be no replacement for the Halfling.

Bofur knows that they will all likely outlive the hobbit, but they had never bet upon losing him so soon. They had all thought that they would have another fifty years of teasing the halfling and watching his smile brighten further in the presence of their king.

Thorin breaks the silence, but he does not address any dwarves.

"You have to come back to us, Bilbo." He murmurs, raising the hobbits pale, limp hand to his mouth to press a kiss to its back. "I have too much to tell you for you to leave us now, so you have to wake up. Until then, I will stay with you."

"I will send for Gandalf." Kili mutters, stalking from the tent, harshly scrubbing at his eyes and Fili squeezes his uncle's shoulder before following his brother into the cold night.

Bofur watches his king for a few more moments before turning his face away as Thorin begins to shakily whisper tales of his childhood into Bilbo's ears.

Bofur prays. _Please, Mahal. Don't take our burglar from us._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments keep me going :)


	5. Chapter 5

The afterlife changes, it seems, in the same way the rivers swell and recede depending on rainfall.

Bilbo stands in the clearing near Beorn's Halls, surrounded by the lazy buzzing of bees. He is alone, but his senses tingle with the awareness of another and he casts his gaze about. He knows he is safe here. Relatively speaking and so he feels no fear.

Quite suddenly, thick arms encircle his waist.

"Caught you, burglar." Thorin murmurs into his ear, the heat of his body burning into Bilbo's back.

Bilbo smiles and leans into the embrace. The previous night, the hobbit's dreams had been finally realised and the delicious ache in his backside attests to it.

"So it seems." The halfling replies. He's too sore for another tumble, and he knows that Thorin knows this, but he can't help but feel disappointed.

"What are you doing out here alone?" The dwarf asks, stepping back and allowing Bilbo to turn and face him.

Thorin's chest is exposed, having left his tunic somewhere, and though Bilbo's mouth waters at the sight, he reaches out with a gentle hand to brush against the injuries caused by Azog and his warg. Thorin watches him with soft eyes and a smile.

"I'm fine." He whispers, dipping his face to touch their foreheads together. "Thanks to you."

Bilbo shrugs, "It was nothing your company wouldn't have done, if only they had been able to get their feet under them."

"Perhaps." Thorin agrees, but he pulls Bilbo in for a kiss. "I brought... what is it you call it? Second-breakfast?" The dwarven king smiles at the way Bilbo's face lights up.

"Join me?" The hobbit asks, sitting upon the soft, cool grass at their feet. Thorin goes back to where Bilbo assumes he was hiding and wanders back with a cloth-covered basket. Bilbo snorts at the picture he makes. Dishevelled king with a picnic basket.

Thorin sits and removes the cloth with a flourish and the hobbit's stomach growls at the small feast revealed. Cured ham, cheeses, bread, honey, fruit, what looks like pâté, and a small bladder of ale.

"Oh, Thorin, this is lovely." Bilbo murmurs, cheeks pink. If he didn't know Thorin better, he'd assume that this was courting.

"It's just a few things I found in the pantry." Thorin replies, reaching for the bread and slicing cheese, but Bilbo doesn't miss the slight colour rising to the dwarf's cheeks and he smiles.

"Thank you."

Bilbo digs into this second-breakfast with relish, surprised to find that the sweetness of the honey brings out the taste of the ham in ways that honey from the Shire did not.

Finished, he reclines, mug of ale in hand.

"This is a charming place, isn't it?" He muses, grinning as a couple of lambs prance from the trees, only to dart back in as they notice the hobbit and dwarf. Skittish creatures.

"Hmm. It's not bad."

"Not _bad_?" Bilbo turns to him, shocked. "Look at this place!" He gestures with a sweep of his arm. "I mean, it's not Hobbiton, or even Bree, but it's so peaceful. I could certainly live here."

Bilbo settles back with a sigh, watching the large bumblebees go about their business. Thorin is silent for a long time before he quietly murmurs, "Could you live at Erebor?"

The hobbit swings his head around so quickly that his neck twinges in protest.

"What?" He asks, wide-eyed and heart thumping hard in his chest.

Thorin clears his throat and wraps thick arms around his knees, resting his head on them as he regards Bilbo. "Do you think you could live happily at Erebor?"

Bilbo doesn't understand why, but for a moment, Thorin looks impossibly young. His eyes glitter with something Bilbo can't decipher, but a lump rises in the hobbit's throat regardless.

"I think I could." Bilbo says, voice thick, "Very happily."

_But now I'm dead, and I can never be with you again._

Thorin levels him with an inscrutable look for a few more seconds before he nods with a small smile curving his lips. "Good. I'd hate for you to feel unhappy within Erebor's walls."

Bilbo smiles, but it feels bittersweet.

_I could have been very happy sharing my life with you, Thorin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the later update :)


	6. Chapter 6

By the time Gandalf arrives, Thorin appears to have talked himself hoarse in his bid to keep Bilbo amongst them as best he can. The wizard appears in a flurry, panicked at the prospect that Bilbo may pass. Oin is convinced that, had Gandalf not paused to regard Thorin's anguish, he would have been at the king's throat demanding answers. As it is, the misery on their king's face is answer enough.

"Is there anything you can do?" Oin asks the wizard.

Gandalf sighs and moves to place his hand upon Bilbo's clammy brow. In the time it had taken the princely brothers to fetch him, Bilbo had begun to slip into a fever.

"He has lost a lot of blood." Gandalf affirms, "He's very sick."

"Can you save him?" Thorin rasps, eyes never leaving the hobbit's face.

"I can ease his pain." The wizard murmurs, "But the rest is up to him. Hobbits are not built to suffer such an injury, Thorin, you should prepare yourself and your company for all eventualities."

"I cannot." The king hisses, squeezing Bilbo's limp hand.

"You _must_." Gandalf counters, a thunderous expression on his face. "I will not blame you for this outcome, Thorin, Son of Thrain. I led you and your company to Bilbo, but he had to make the decision to follow you and, indeed, to sacrifice his own life for yours. The best any of us can do is wait and prepare."

"What about Elrond?" Thorin whispers, "Would he be able to--"

"If you wish for his opinion I can send for him, but you _must_ prepare yourself and your company." Gandalf places a large hand on Thorin's shoulder and gives it a strengthening squeeze.

After some time, Thorin nods. At this the company slumps with something akin to defeat, though infinitely sadder.

Ori, having bravely held back tears throughout their perilous journey, despite his gentle nature, begins to sob. He and Bilbo had been good friends; the two of them had spoken on many an evening around the campfire, largely about books.

Kili turns to Fili for comfort as he struggles to hold back his own tears at the prospect of their burglar leaving them all behind.

The rest stand silent, as no song could possibly warm their hearts.


	7. Chapter 7

When Elrond arrives, Thorin's company have managed to clear a room within Erebor. With great care, they had moved Bilbo on a stretcher to the room as Thorin ran alongside, clutching at the hobbit's hand.

"King Under the Mountain." Elrond greets, stooping to enter the room. His eyes go to the small body swathed in blankets. "He is still fevered?"

"He is." Thorin murmurs, hands wringing a damp cloth to place upon the hobbit's forehead. "Is there anything you can do?"

Elrond reaches out a hand. "May I?" Thorin nods and the elf lord gently removes the cloth so as to touch his hand to Bilbo's brow. "He's lost in fever dreams. Good ones if he has not been struggling against you?" At this Thorin indicates that Bilbo has been nothing but still. "As the fever reaches its peak, there's every possibility that the dreams will get more violent. I can help with the fever, but I cannot stop it taking its course."

"Can you save him?"

Elrond sighs and removes his hand and replaces the cloth. "I don't know. His wound?"

Oin steps forward to remove some of the bandaging to reveal the wound to Elrond's eyes. It is raw and jagged, but the stitches are clean and there is no sign of infection despite the hasty manner in which it had been treated. It would scar well.

Elrond gently probes around the wound and reaches into his sleeve to produce a salve. "This will help him heal." He murmurs as he applies it and helps Oin replace the bandages. "There is little more to do other than to wait. I will not attempt to give you false hope, but that you got him help as quickly as you did has already aided him greatly in his healing. I commend your healer."

Thorin grunts.

"Thorin, there is every possibility that he will awaken, given time. I shall stay within Erebor by your leave until he either does so, or perishes."

There is no name for the noise that escapes Thorin at the manner-of-fact way Elrond states this and the company flinches.

Elrond clears his throat, "I understand your pain. I shall do my best to ensure his recovery, but I ask that you all prepare yourselves for the possibility that Bilbo may not improve. I may be an elven healer, but even I cannot perform miracles. Much of Bilbo's improvement lies with him. I encourage you to persuade him to come back to this time and place. He will be in a lot of pain, but it will mean that he is here and not trapped in fever dreams - some of which can be incredibly dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Thorin asks, eyes fixed on Bilbo's face.

"Depending on their content, they can offer a more..." He gropes for the right word, "pleasant experience to what awaits him here. He may well believe he is already Yavanna's Garden. If the dreams become dark during the fever's peak?" He shrugs, "He may be more inclined to listen to your pleas for him to return."

Thorin nods and clasps both hand around Bilbo's smaller one.

"Please come back, Bilbo. _Please_ , my _ghivashel_ _._ "


	8. Chapter 8

It's raining now. Heavy. It takes Bilbo a moment to place himself. This had been a less pleasant time in the course of their journey. The dark cave out of the rain and the company slumbering as Bilbo fulfils his watch.

' _Please come back, Bilbo._ Please _, my_ _ghivashel._ '

Bilbo turns sharply, heart pounding. The whisper is in Thorin's voice, but Thorin slumbers on - despite his protests at allowing a halfling to take first watch.

 _Strange_.

The hobbit fills his pipe, shrugging. The afterlife _was_ strange, he was probably getting his wires crossed.

Except - he pauses, mid-inhale - except Thorin had never sounded so desperate before, let alone called him _that_.

He exhales. _Interesting_.

If this follows the same path as the other snippets of his life over the past few months, he and Thorin have not yet reconciled any differences. All this happened well before The Carrock.

He smokes and watches the rain swell and subside a little. Thorin stirs.

The dwarf king joins Bilbo at the cave's mouth.

"Burglar." Thorin greets, settling on the cold rock. Bilbo nods at him, blowing a smoke-ring as he does so. "Any sign of anything?" He asks, turning his too-blue eyes out into the dark.

"No."

"Good. You should go and get your head down."

Bilbo regards this Thorin for a long moment - the Thorin from the start of their journey - and he realises something with a start. Loving Thorin hadn't happened after Carrock, it had all begun upon seeing the proud dwarf standing outside his smial door.

Seeing him as he was, now, it is easy to understand that. And the words just fall out of his mouth unbidden.

"I love you."

Thorin turns, slowly and carefully.

There's a sad smile twitching at his lips as he says: "I know. That's why you have to wake up."

Bilbo frowns, confused. "I _am_ awake."

"You're not." Thorin shakes his head and reaches for the hobbit's hand. Suddenly, his whole arm glows with warmth. "You have to wake up and come back to us, _ghivashel_. Erebor..." Thorin swallows, "Erebor means less to us without you there. It means less to _me_. I can't... Without you, Bilbo, I can't be who I need to be to make Erebor great again."

"You have to be." Bilbo whispers.

"I can't." Thorin shakes his head. He looks out into the wilderness and, as Bilbo follows his gaze, the hobbit notices that everything around them is fading. He grasps Thorin's hand tightly, fear shooting though him. "Without you, I'm nothing. I thought that the Arkenstone was the key to being king, but I was wrong. Finding you... finding you is what made me great, not regaining the throne." Thorin turns back to Bilbo and the hobbit realises that the dwarf is nearly transparent. "Come back to me, _ghivashel_."

And then, he's gone. Everything disappears and Bilbo is left to float in greyness with the dwarf king's words ringing in is ears.


End file.
